


The Push He Needed

by Tub



Series: Kyla: Red Light Series [7]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, Domestic Fluff, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Quiet Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Sexual Dysfunction, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 11:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19334014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tub/pseuds/Tub
Summary: Staldar and Prith have a chat after a long day and gives Staldar a lot to think about.Staldar finally asks Yorsashi for guidance, regarding the direction of their relationship. Yorsashi readily provides it.(Is canonical.)





	The Push He Needed

“Yorsashi loves you, Staldar.  _ Let _ him love you.”

 

Staldar hates when Prith is right. And, to his persistent ire, Prith is often right. Under the veneer of vanity and narcissism, there’s a wise and perceptive man, an unlikely confidante. He was always one to cut right to the point, see things for what they were. His uncanny ability to know people better than they know themselves always gave him an edge.

 

For once, Staldar finds himself grateful for this.

 

His tired legs carry him up to his and Yorsashi’s room, and he stops in the door a moment, watching Yorsashi putter about, watering his slowly growing collection of plants. The little tableau of peace, so utterly domestic, causes fondness to well up in his chest. And then a bitter little seed of melancholy plants itself there instead.  _ ‘He was never meant to take life.’ _ This suits him better than the grisly work of cutting down roving corpses.  _ ‘He’s too good to be cleaning up after me.’ _ But Yorsashi looks up and smiles at him, and those thoughts fade.

 

“I just had a very… interesting conversation with Prith.” He closes the door behind himself.

 

“Hah, every conversation with Prith is interesting.”

 

“That’s the truth,” Staldar snorts, starting to pull off his gambeson.

 

“Whether you hope it to be or not,” Yorsashi sighs, continuing to tend to his plants. Staldar hangs the garment on one of the bed’s posts, rolling an aching shoulder. Cleaving through the undead for several hours had, unsurprisingly, left him a bit sore.

 

Come to think of it, he’d had a few very interesting conversations as of late.

 

“What do you think of the future, Yorsashi?”

 

Yorsashi blinks, then laughs.

 

“That’s, ah, that’s a rather large question to ask at eleven in the evening,” he teases, and Staldar chuckles guiltily.

 

“Forgive me for dropping such heavy questions upon you at such a late hour.”

 

“I didn’t realize we were in the Philosopher’s Haven,” Yorsashi continues, and Staldar rolls his eyes, shaking his head. “I joke, I joke,” he amends, waving a hand. He thinks briefly. “I look forward to it. I look forward to what is to come. And the future is always just what you make of it!” There’s a bit of excitement, a little hope in his voice. “We can’t simply wait for the future to come, we need to bring it to us…” He trails off a moment, gathering his thoughts again, before continuing. “We need to be active, or the future won’t  _ be  _ the future, it will simply be the present.” Staldar tilts his head a bit, brow furrowing at this. He thinks he follows. Sometimes, Yorsashi’s thought processes went a little over his head. But that was something he had always appreciated in him. “That’s why we’re doing all this, isn’t it? To bring forth a new future for all of Kyla,” Yorsashi finishes. Staldar finds himself nodding along. And then he fiddles the lacing of his undershirt, eyes downturned.

 

“And… what of our future?”

 

Yorsashi pauses what he’s doing, then continues, watering the last plant, before setting the little can aside. As he steps closer, Staldar turns to meet him, and gives his hand when Yorsashi reaches out. Yorsashi’s hands are always warm, a bit softer than his own, and they cup his larger, gruffer hands so gently.

 

“For us? To be honest, I don’t much care, so long as I get to do it beside you.” Yorsashi is looking up at him so intently, eyes full of warmth. “I want the future to come, and I hope that in that future, when our lives play out before our eyes, after we leave this world, that I will have spent most of it by your side.”

 

Staldar’s heart aches at that, the thought that their time is so finite, but he very much wants the same thing. It’s a bittersweet wish. Maybe, just maybe, when his time inevitably comes, he won’t be alone. He smiles sadly.

 

But he doesn’t want to dwell on that now. Instead, he thinks of his recent imaginings, pictures of the two of them somewhere different, somewhere remote, a place of their own, their lives their own.

 

“When all is said and done, and we do what he can for this city, I’ve been thinking… about, maybe, if only temporarily, going somewhere new. Somewhere different. But I would only go if you go with me.” He would stay in Kyla, gladly, if that is what Yorsashi wished. He could be content. But he still hopes that Yorsashi would humor him. Yorsashi grins.

 

“Staldar, I would be honored to go with you.”

 

Staldar smiles back, and he leans down, letting their noses brush.

 

“Maybe somewhere green and lush? No more brick and mortar and concrete.” No more hustle and bustle, no more smoke stacks and clamor and buildings and walls. Just the two of them, wide open sky and grass and trees, a little home, no more hiding, no more fighting. Freedom.

 

“That sounds wonderful,” Yorsashi sighs. He leans forward, arms wrapping around him, warm and soft, his muzzle finding its way up into the curve of his neck, finding the spot where he seems to fit just right, and Staldar flushes.  _ ‘I don’t think I will ever get used to this.’ _

 

And then he’s attacked by too many stray thoughts at once, and he freezes.

 

With all this talk, he realizes, he still doesn’t know what he’s doing. There’s a threshold, a step waiting to be taken, and he just… doesn’t know how.  _ “You two were always meant for each other _ ,” Prith had said matter-of-factly, downing his drink. “ _ It was always obvious _ .” Staldar had scoffed at that. “ _ Well, apparently not to me. _ ”

 

Others seemed to just  _ know _ , born with the instinct, knowledge, curiosity, all things Staldar seemed to lack. His mind and his body couldn’t seem to agree upon what it was they were meant to do with such feelings, and it grew to be a nuisance, a minor irritation more than anything else. Yorsashi was the only one to ever spark his interest, but then he was young, scared, and too caught up in the trappings of their stations to feel allowed to act.  But now, in this moment, so far removed from their old life, just a touch overwarm, Yorsashi’s body fitted to his like a lock and key, the answer should appear clear. Shouldn’t it?

 

Yorsashi must feel him tense, feel the gears turning, the internal fretting somehow louder than the quiet of the Den. He begins to rub Staldar’s back, then begins to rock, gently, back and forth, a patient, soothing gesture. He continues to nuzzle softly. ‘ _ It’s alright, you’re safe. Come back to me, be here with me now,’  _ he almost seems to say. Staldar breathes deeply, a shuddering breath, and reciprocates, the moment of panic subsiding. But he’s still still unsure of himself, so he finds his voice, slightly muffled against Yorsashi’s shoulder.

 

“We’ve been talking about the future,” he starts, a little shaky. “Sometimes I’m still not sure about even our present.” He pulls back, suddenly very keen on seeing Yorsashi’s face, needing some way to read him, make sure he’s understood. But then he meets Yorsashi’s eyes and it’s too much, so he looks down instead. “I-if there is something you want from… this, us,”  _ ‘me,’  _ “I… I-I’m not very good at these things, I don’t know how to…” He trails off, embarrassed.  _ ‘Please understand. I’m trying, but I _ —!’ He can’t help but feel a little foolish.

 

A warm hand comes up to his face, and he closes his eyes.

 

“It’s okay,” he says gently. “There are many things I’d like to do with you, Staldar. Eat cake, go on adventures, take trips down to the river… make love.” Staldar feels himself flush harder, heart beating far too loud to his own ears. “But I only want to do them if you are willing. And if you aren’t, then that’s okay.” And Staldar is surprised not to hear even a small amount of disappointment in Yorsashi’s voice.

 

A warm hand is in his own again, and Yorsashi moves in closer, very intentionally having Staldar meet his eyes now. There is desire in those eyes, not the leery, hungry kind Staldar often sees in others, but desire tempered by affection and care and wonder.

 

“Do you want to try?”

 

Staldar’s tongue turns thick and uncooperative in his head, and his blood can’t seem to decide which way to pump. ‘ _ Anything, everything, whatever you want, I want it, too,’  _ he wishes he had the strength to say, but all eloquence and verbosity escapes him. If Yorsashi feels the trembling in his limbs and the fast pace his heart has set, he hopes it’s not misconstrued as fear or discomfort. Nerves, sure, but he finds himself surprisingly eager at the same time. For once, he  _ wants _ , and he doesn't push it away, doesn't run from it, isn’t annoyed by it, and it's exhilarating and new and maybe a little frightening, overwhelming, but he could try. With Yorsashi, he could always try.

 

So, dizzy and flustered and so terribly in love, he nods, perhaps a bit more enthusiastically than he intends.

 

“Okay,” Yorsashi says quietly, smiling up at him. “Then let’s try.” He steps forward, leading Staldar back until the back of his calves touch the bed frame, then guides him down, until he’s kneeling in front of Staldar, between his legs. Staldar realizes that this is actually a pleasant change, not looming so much over Yorsashi now, more equal this way. He leans toward Yorsashi, not having to crane his neck, nuzzling the side of his face, and Yorsashi makes a small, contented sound, leaning into the tender gesture. Staldar finds comfort in this, soft lingering touches not so different from their typical nightly cuddles and affection. This he knew.

 

Yorsashi leans in further, the end of his muzzle tracing the line of his throat, and his breath stutters for a moment, fingers twitching on Yorsashi’s waist. One of Yorsashi’s hands reaches up to the nape of Staldar’s neck, holding him in place, and he parts his mouth to lick a slow line up the hollow of his throat. Staldar gasps, fingers grasping at the cotton of Yorsashi’s tunic, head falling back. And then he does it again and again, slowly making his way down, until he reaches the neck of Staldar’s shirt, then goes back to nuzzling the underside of his jaw, letting Staldar catch his breath.

 

“What do you want,  _ ethe-itov _ ? What would you like to do?”

 

Staldar blinks, head too full of fuzz to form an answer right away. He just shakes his head, voice returning to him.

 

“I don’t know,” he murmurs. “I-I’ve never…” He swallows. “Could you, ah, lead?”  _ ‘Show me how. Show me how to do this for you _ .’

 

“I can do that,” Yorsashi replies easily, and Staldar nearly sighs in relief. “You just need to tell me if I do anything you don’t like. Alright?” Staldar nods, and Yorsashi smiles. “And if you decide you do want to do something, just ask.” Staldar feels warmth rush to his face again, but he nods once more. Yorsashi’s hand slides down his shoulder, over his chest, stopping to rest over his heart, splaying his fingers out. “ _ Si itov wux, _ ” Yorsashi whispers into his scales. Staldar is certain Yorsashi feels the way his heart beats a little harder for a few beats. He places a hand over Yorsashi’s, the other winding around his hip, and he pulls him close, curling into him.

 

“ _ Vur si wux, _ ” he sighs.  _ And I you. _

 

They stay like this for a moment more, but Yorsashi starts to pull away, and Staldar lets him. Hands trailing down, down to the hem of Staldar’s undershirt, fingers playing with the material.

 

“May I?”

 

Staldar shivers and starts to move as if to take off the shirt, but Yorsashi stops him short.

 

“Let me,” he murmurs, and Staldar blinks in surprise.

 

“A-alright.”

 

Yorsashi’s hands creep up under the thin fabric, and Staldar shivers as curious fingers travel gently over the soft, flat scales of his belly, and then up, over fat and muscle and rib cage. Staldar raises his arms and Yorsashi pulls the shirt up and off, letting it fall to the wayside. There’s a moment where Yorsashi stops moving, eyes flickering over him, and Staldar realizes that he’s taking a moment to look at him in a way he hasn’t had a chance to yet. Embarrassed, Staldar turns his head and simply allows him the chance, resisting the urge to cover up or deflect. He thinks of all the scars he’s collected since they last lived together, how time and strange circumstances had stolen some of the luster from his scales. At least now he wasn’t struggling to keep a healthy weight, not so lean, able to rest and eat easily, even if he needed reminding.

 

“ _ Vorrelim _ ,” Yorsashi says quietly, pulling Staldar from his thoughts.

 

“ _ V _ - _ vorrelim? Ve?”  _ Staldar says in disbelief. “Hardly.”

 

“Are you calling me a liar?”

 

“W-well, no, but a flatterer, certainly,” Staldar stammers, huffing, looking away again.

 

“Have you ever known me to pay undeserved compliments?” Yorsashi replies, leaning into Staldar’s periphery, trying to meet his eye. “ _ Ethe-itov _ , you already know I find you very attractive.”

 

“I— y-yes, I suppose, it’s just…  _ Vorrelim  _ is so…”  _ Beautiful  _ is not a word Staldar ever associated with his appearance. Yorsashi is beautiful. Prith is, admittedly, beautiful. But himself… “ _ Wux re zyak vorel. Throdenilt loupon si.” You are so beautiful. More than I. _ Staldar sees the barest hint of a blush under Yorsashi’s scales, and oh, that’s a sight he’d like to see more often.

 

“I wish you would just let me say something nice about you without turning it on me,” Yorsashi grumbles, butting his nose against Staldar’s in frustration. Staldar laughs, taking Yorsashi’s face in his hands, rubbing his nose apologetically.

 

“If it’s any consolation, I think you’re more beautiful than anyone else I’ve ever met,” Staldar murmurs, and Yorsashi’s blush grows. Then he laughs, humor dancing in his eyes.

 

“Well, maybe not Catherine. She’s quite beautiful,” Yorsashi amends. Staldar snorts.

 

“Yes, but she’s a succubus from the  _ n _ th circle of hell who can shape-shift. So, ah, not exactly a fair comparison.”

 

“What if she shape-shifted into a more beautiful version of me?”

 

“Alright, now you’re just being silly,” Staldar chuckles. “And I don’t want to think of Catherine right now,” he finishes, voice growing gravelly, hand moving from his face down Yorsashi’s neck, fingers grazing along the edge of his tunic. Yorsashi makes a small, choked sound, losing his composure briefly, and Staldar takes it as a small victory. “I want to see you, too,” he says quietly, a gentle request, and Yorsashi shivers against him.

 

“ _ Yes, _ ” Yorsashi breathes, and Staldar helps him shed his top, tossing it down to the floor. Staldar lets his hands explore a bit, only slightly hesitant, brushing gently over Yorsashi’s supple scales. Gods, but he  _ is _ beautiful. Staldar’s throat goes dry, and his fingers tremble a little, skimming over the planes of his chest, his abdomen. He pauses as he passes over a small patch, missing a few scales, and remembers what it’s from with a start. He remembers how scared he’d been, scared he’d lose Yorsashi. Yorsashi feels him hesitate, notes where his hand rests, and rests a hand over Staldar’s. “It’s alright. You pulled me through. You made sure I would be okay,” Yorsashi whispers, nosing against the side of Staldar’s face. He trails a hand over Staldar’s shoulder, finding one of his newer scars, a wound from the hooks of the devils they faced off with in the temple. “I wish I could have returned the favor.”

 

“We’re together now. That’s all the matters,” Staldar says emphatically, pulling Yorsashi close again. “I came back,” he growls into Yorsashi’s throat, and Yorsashi shudders, clinging tight.

 

“You did. You came back to me,” he croaks. He breathes hard for a moment, regaining control over his emotions, but pushes forward into Staldar, urging him back, and Staldar lets himself be guided down, falling back against the sheets. But Yorsashi doesn’t follow him back so much as simply slides down his body, staying on his knees, running his hands down Staldar’s stomach, his thighs, and then nudges them further apart, scooting up.

 

Staldar leans up on his elbows, confused, but then Yorsashi is unlacing his breeches, and he goes warm all over. He’s been resolutely ignoring how tight his leggings have felt for the past few minutes, but now he’s acutely aware of how painfully hard his member is, straining at the fabric.

 

“Is this alright?” Yorsashi asks, seeing him go scarlet down to his chest.

 

“Y-yes,” Staldar chokes out. “Please,” he blurts before he can stop himself. He thinks he might die for a moment, clapping a hand over his mouth in mortification. Yorsashi smiles gently, laughing a little under his breath.

 

“You’re allowed to want this, you know. I  _ want _ you to want this,” he intones softly, and Staldar lets his hand drop, then nods his understanding, still embarrassed. “It’s sweet that, even now, you don’t forget your manners,” Yorsashi says, a little teasingly, and Staldar huffs.

 

Yorsashi finishes unlacing him, but doesn’t try to disrobe him right away. He lets a hand linger over the line of his erection, letting it ghost over the linen, and Staldar falls back against the bed, barely stifling a groan behind his hand. Oh, but that’s a strange feeling, one that makes his pulse jump and his lungs feel like they can’t get enough air. Yorsashi presses more firmly, stroking him through his pants, and Staldar bites his knuckle, nearly crying out, back arching.

 

“My, but you are sensitive,” Yorsashi muses. Staldar doesn’t think his body could flush any harder, but it tries. He feels nearly feverish.

 

“I don’t, ah, I don’t do…  _ this _ . Ever,” Staldar manages to eek out. “I very much meant it when I said I don’t know how to do any of this.” It’s embarrassing to admit, realizing how bizarre it would sound to others. Fifty years old, a mountain of bodies and destruction behind him, but he was still a blushing virgin, chaste as a nun. “Y-you’re the first…” He lifts his head, looking for some kind of reaction from Yorsashi. Yorsashi seems to be considering this, looking thoughtful.

 

“Lucky me?” He laughs, and Staldar makes a disgruntled sound, furrowing his brow at him. “What? You say this like it’s something to be ashamed of, but you might as well have told me it’s my birthday, and you’re the present I get to unwrap.” Staldar makes another sound of disbelief, shaking his head.

 

“You’re ridiculous.”

 

“Ridiculously in love with you, yes,” Yorsashi replies with glee, and Staldar almost retorts but then Yorsashi squeezes his length, and he falls back onto the mattress with a tiny groan, hands grasping fitfully at the sheets.

 

He feels more than sees Yorsashi tugging at his leggings, pulling his member free it's confines. He shudders, cool night air and wandering hands pulling all manner of new and overwhelming sensations from him. Tenuous heat has begun to coil low in his belly, every little touch stoking it further. When Yorsashi laves at the underside of his prick, he's taken by surprise, grunting hard, arching off the bed as if electrocuted. He tries to look up, but the sight of Yorsashi, bent over him, tongue curled sweetly around his prick, blue eyes meeting his briefly, it’s too much, too torturous. He turns his head and throws an arm over his eyes, breathing hard.

 

“ _ G-Gods _ , Yorsashi, I  _ can’t _ —!” Staldar isn’t sure how he had intended to complete that sentence— can’t look, can’t breathe, can’t bear it? Yorsashi stops, pulling back a little, and Staldar melts into the bed, chest heaving.

 

“Can’t what,  _ ethe-itov _ ?” Staldar hears a little smirk in his voice, and peers out from under the crook of his arm. Yorsashi is sat up, hands resting on his thighs, gently kneading the muscle there. “We’ve only just begun, love. Is it truly too much already?”

 

“You’ve always been too much for me,” Staldar breathes, breaking into a smile, lifting his arm away to reach down. Yorsashi reaches up and entwines their hands, but makes a soft noise of surprise when Staldar pulls him forward, urging him up onto the mattress. It’s a clumsy affair, with only one hand, but Yorsashi crawls up, shuffling forward until he’s hovering over Staldar, knees on either side of his waist. As soon as he is in reach, Staldar uses his free hand to trace along the line of his chest, his ribs, then up and down the line of his back down to the curve of his backside over his leggings. After so many years of accidental ogling, in all states of dress and undress, there's a catharsis in finally cupping the swell of his shapely ass in his hand. Yorsashi makes a sound of delight, arching against the touch.

 

Staldar suddenly realizes that some of those occasions may not have been accidental on Yorsashi's part.

 

“Do you remember when we first moved into the garrison and you offered to help me oil my scales?” Staldar asks, unprompted. Yorsashi blinks.

 

“Yes?”

 

“You were making a pass at me, right?”

 

Yorsashi blinks again, processing this, then laughs, pressing his face to Staldar’s chest to stifle the noise, trying not to be loud, entire body shaking with it.

 

“O-oh my Gods, Staldar,  _ yes _ , I was absolutely making a pass at you! Wha— were you really not sure, all this time? Bahamut wept!” He giggles, falling atop Staldar and wriggling in mirth. Staldar finds himself laughing as well, trying to hold Yorsashi steady. He faintly feels the shape of Yorsashi’s erection against his belly, but is distracted by Yorsashi’s fit of hysterics.

 

“I mean, I suppose it’s obvious in  _ hindsight _ , but—”

 

“Hindsight? Staldar, I’d been trying to seduce you  _ years  _ before that!  _ Years _ ! Hells, practically since we first met! I thought I couldn’t be any louder or clearer with my intentions,” Yorsashi gasps, lifting his head, wide grin splitting his face. “Sometimes I thought I was  _ too  _ forward, and I was scaring you off. I was so shameless about it.”

 

“I was convinced you were simply being nice, and that  _ I  _ was a lech for projecting my desires onto you,” Staldar huffs between little bouts of laughter. “Yorsashi, I regret to inform you, you fell for an absolute fool.”

 

“No, no, that’s the sweetest damn thing I’ve heard, Gods! If anyone’s the fool, it’s me for not just  _ telling  _ you how I felt like an adult, meanwhile you were just trying to be a gentleman.” Yorsashi wraps his arms around Staldar’s neck, and Staldar rumbles happily, stroking along Yorsashi’s body as the laughter subsides.

 

“Gentleman is not the word I would use. Sharing tents with you was absolutely maddening some nights,” Staldar admits, and Yorsashi shifts subtly, humming. Before Staldar realizes what he’s doing, shifting back, he’s grinding back against Staldar’s prick, and he chokes, squeezing Yorsashi hard.

 

“Oh?” Yorsashi watches him with half-lidded eyes, a smug little curl tugging at his mouth. “I’m flattered. You mean to say my efforts didn’t go completely to waste?”

 

“Y-you could say that,” Staldar rasps as Yorsashi rocks back and forth, creating delicious friction between them.

 

“Tell me about it,” Yorsashi purrs, tongue flicking out to wet his mouth, his own breaths starting to come out in pants. “Tell me how I made you feel.” Staldar blinks, searching his memory between licks of flame Yorsashi was stoking between their bodies, trying to think back to the restless nights spend beside Yorsashi.

 

“I— I dreamt of you o-once,” He starts, stuttering, breath hitching. “We were o-only twenty or so, a-and I still wasn’t sure what to make of you—  _ hnn _ . At least, not consciously. My body apparently h-had it’s own designs.”

 

“Tell me about the dream. Do you remember it?”

 

“Y-yes,” Staldar pants. “I don’t dream m-much, and when I d-do, I forget, but I remembered this.” He swallows, mind conjuring the memories, the images, how he felt waking up, shivering and sticky. “Gods, it didn’t take much, I just, we were in the—  _ oh— _ the forest, without our clothes, and y-you whispered in my ear, and then you  _ touched me _ ,” Staldar tosses his head back, groaning, trying not to buck against Yorsashi, legs trembling and twitching. “Th-that’s all it took, oh,  _ Gods,  _ that’s all it took to make me— me—”

 

“Finish?” Yorsashi supplies, voice full of heat, and Staldar can’t answer, just nods, feeling a hint of shame but too aroused to do much about it or dwell on it. Yorsashi growls, suddenly detangling from Staldar, sitting up. “Gods, Staldar, would you let me? Make you come? Please?”

 

Staldar stares up at Yorsashi, blinking in surprise, but then he understands what Yorsashi is asking of him, and his skin suddenly feels too tight on his body, too hot. He isn’t quite sure what to say to that, light-headed and dazed.  _ Yes? That’s rather the point of this, right? That’s usually how these things tend to conclude, isn’t it? _

 

“W-what about you?” He manages to croak out. “I, ah, I want to— to reciprocate.” Yorsashi’s answering blush and smile makes him melt.

 

“We can do that. We could come together, if you wanted. At the same time.”

 

Oh. Staldar hadn’t necessarily considered that, the idea of them reaching climax, mutually, simultaneously. He really feels like he’s melting, exhaling shakily, cool breath turning to vapor in the warm air.

 

“Yes. That. I-I want to do that. With you,” he stammers, shifting under Yorsashi’s weight, starting to feel restless. He very suddenly desires what little clothing still separating them to be doffed, fingers creeping up Yorsashi’s hips, over the lacing of his leggings where a small wet spot has begun to form. Yorsashi shudders, eyes fluttering at the gossamer touch, twitching, fabric and cording over his prick pulled taught. “Can I remove this?”

 

“Oh, yes, absolutely,” Yorsashi breathes, almost relieved. With a careful claw, Staldar plucks at the string, parting the soft linen, and Yorsashi’s member bobs free, flushed and pink. Staldar finds himself surprisingly fascinated by their differences— his own prick being a bit longer, but thinner, and ruddier, while Yorsashi’s stood shorter and thicker around its middle and base.

 

“Cute,” Staldar murmurs, and Yorsashi’s answering blush and bashful expression make him realize a moment too late that he’d voiced the thought aloud, but Yorsashi speaks up before he can stutter out an apology.

 

“You could… touch, if you like? Only if you want,” Yorsashi supplies haltingly, though why he’s suddenly so uncertain, Staldar can’t fathom, because there’s nothing he wants  _ more  _ in that moment.

 

He’s so eager, in fact, that he forgets himself, large hand grasping the majority of Yorsashi’s length a bit more firmly than he intends.

 

Yorsashi, surprised by the sudden heat and pressure and friction cries out a high sound of pleasure-pain, sharp and loud, bucking up once into the tight circle of Staldar’s grip before stilling himself, going wide-eyed and quiet, hand covering his mouth. Staldar, startled, releases him, and holds his breath, listening for any sign that the rest of the Den might have been disturbed. A moment passes, hush settling over them, and then they both sigh, sagging in relief.

 

“I’m so sorry,” Staldar whispers in a rush, leaning to sit up, but Yorsashi just laughs, putting his hands up comfortingly, shaking his head. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

 

“No, no, it’s alright,” Yorsashi reassures, butting his nose against Staldar’s affectionately. “Just a little too fast, love. If anything, I was afraid I was going to, er,  _ pop off _ way too soon. I didn’t think you’d be so, um,  _ enthusiastic _ .”

 

“I just… really wanted to make you feel good,” Staldar supplies sheepishly. Yorsashi pulls back, and begins to climb off, pulling his leggings down further as he goes. Staldar feels a hint of disappointment, feeling oddly cold without Yorsashi near, and he sits upright, watching Yorsashi shed his pants, performing an awkward little hop, kicking off the offending garment. He stifles a chuckle, smiling at his antics.

 

“Let me get some oil and then I can show you how,” Yorsashi chirps, digging through the bottom drawer of their shared dresser. If he knows that he’s putting on a little show, hips and shoulders wiggling and swaying as he bends and feels around for his query, he doesn’t let on. At least, not until he peaks over his shoulder with a little glint in his eye that says ‘ _ caught you looking. _ ’ Staldar shakes his head at him and begins pulling his own trousers off the rest of the way. When he looks back up, Yorsashi has paused his search in favor of watching him disrobe, eyes full of heat, and Staldar smirks.

 

"Find that oil?"

 

Yorsashi flushes anew, and hurriedly turns back to rummaging, pulling out a palm-sized bottle with a little ‘aha!’ Yorsashi is quick to return to the bed, urging Staldar to shuffle back, stretching out across the mattress languidly. Staldar pulls Yorsashi to himself, letting his hands roam and map out his shape, and the green dragonborn drops the corked bottle, letting it fall forgotten for the time being. Tucking his nose into the curve of his shoulder, hands splayed along the dip of his back, Staldar breathes him in, chest filling and rising to meet Yorsashi’s, and when he can’t inhale anymore he sighs. Despite neither having had a chance to get a proper wash after the trials of the day, Yorsashi never seems to smell badly, not to him. No, he simply smells of his leathers, of salt and earth, like freshly turned soil and maybe a little pollen. He knows the next chance he gets, Yorsashi will bathe and smell of soap and oil and sweetness and clean linen again, and is glad that he gets this side of him, nothing masked, nothing washed away in a basin.

 

This is the Yorsashi he walked and slept besides out in the wilderness all those years ago, with only the shallows of brooks and creeks offering a place to freshen up. This was his sparring partner, his shield brother, his paramore.

 

"I feel like I'm twenty, remembering what it felt like to fall in love with you for the first time," Staldar sighs into him. Yorsashi wriggles a bit, pushing himself up to see Staldar's face.

 

"The first time?"

 

"We were apart for some time after that. I think I was resigned to our separation. But I fell in love all over again when I saw you before our induction."

 

Yorsashi's eyes glisten for a moment, but then he's pressed tight against Staldar, hands everywhere, mouthing along his throat, teeth grazing gently, possessively. Staldar lets his head fall back, baring his neck, and he's struck by the odd thought that he probably wouldn't mind if Yorsashi decided to bite down, break the soft skin and scales there, leave a mark. His breath hitches, and he nearly asks for it, for Yorsashi to bite him, but then Yorsashi's hips line up with his own, their cocks brushing together, and he can't form any words, groaning helplessly.

 

" _ Si itov wux,  _ oh, I love you so damn much,” Yorsashi whimpers into his jaw. With a fumbling hand he finds the bottle again, quick to uncork it with his teeth. A soft, familiar smell wafts up, a mix of some sort of cooking oil, nutty and a touch musky,  and a touch of fragrance, a mild perfume. He remembers a few times, coming back to the Den to Yorsashi or their sheets smelling like this, chalking it up to Yorsashi doing some baking or his scale oil. Was this what he was actually doing while he’s gone, running some errand or another? Touching himself in their shared bed?

 

Staldar can’t help it if his claws dig into the backs of Yorsashi’s thighs for a second, and if he rolls his hips, bucking under Yorsashi, who gasps, trying not to spill oil everywhere.

 

“ _ Si itov wux, kiri _ ,” Staldar rasps. “You don’t use this oil for anything else, do you?”

 

“N-no, this is, uh, meant for this, in particular. I-I wouldn’t want to use up my good oils on something like this,” Yorsashi stammers, sitting up to pour a bit into his hand.

 

“I smell it on you after I’ve been gone, sometimes. I smell it when I come to bed.” Staldar’s voice goes low, gravelly, trying to picture what Yorsashi would get up to all alone. Yorsashi shivers, but looks apologetic.

 

“S-sorry, dear. I try not to make any mess and clean up as best I can. I forget you’ve got such a sensitive nose,” he murmurs, warming the oil in his palm.

 

“Don’t be sorry.” His eyes flicker over Yorsashi’s figure. He feels good like this, under Yorsashi, the focus not placed on himself so much. “Show me what you do while I’m away,” he requests, hands gravitating towards Yorsashi’s hips, as they always seem wont to do. Yorsashi gives a small, breathless laugh.

 

“I can certainly do that.”

 

Hand thoroughly coated, he creates a loose circle and takes himself in hand, giving it a slow pump. His eyes fall shut, and he groans, and Staldar feels his thighs tense a little, squeezing him. He sets a slow, gentle pace to start, and Staldar sees he had definitely stepped on the gas a little too hard before. Yorsashi’s eyes flutter open again after a moment, unfocused, but he blinks and looks to Staldar.

 

“I never quite know how l-long you’ll be out, so I don’t exactly get to take my time, not that I have the stamina lately anyways. It’s r-rather like being in the barracks again, sneaking some privacy when I can, tired and pent up and just ready to let off some steam.” Punctuated by little staccato breaths, he twitches, picking up his rhythm. “It’s rather a good thing you get up so early, otherwise I’d have to worry about poking you with my morning stiffy every other day.”

 

Staldar chuckles at this, thumbs tracing the line of his iliac crest, cupping his waist. He can feel the barest tremble in his limbs, little shudders, the tick of his pulse under his fingertips if he squeezes.

 

“Let me try touching you again,” Staldar rumbles. “I’ll take a little more care this time.”

 

Yorsashi just swallows and nods, pulling his own hand away. Staldar mimics what he’d seen Yorsashi do, creating a channel with his hand, giving him a long and slow stroke, and he’s instantly in love with the effect, Yorsashi’s mouth parting, eyes half-lidded with pleasure. The slick, soft skin under his hand gives a little jerk, moisture collecting on its tip, and the little sound Yorsashi makes, a little mewl of surprise, when he swipes the flat of his thumb over the head is addictive. And then he learns that adding a little twist on the upstroke makes Yorsashi whine, body trying to curl, knees trying to draw in, and that’s a reaction he needs more of.

 

“G-Gods, but you catch on quickly,” Yorsashi gasps.

 

“I was always a quick study,” Staldar mumbles, still focused on trying to bring Yorsashi pleasure, trying to memorize every little sound and shiver. He hopes that this means Yorsashi won’t feel the need to be so secretive about his masturbation habits anymore, because this is his new favorite thing.

 

“ _ Ah _ , let me return the favor,  _ ethe-itov _ ,” Yorsashi suggests, oil-slicked hand reaching down to wrap around Staldar. He loses his pace for a moment, remembering the heat in his belly, the electric current running up his spine, and for a moment, he almost wants to ask Yorsashi to stop, just so his attention isn’t so split. But it does feel good, good in a way he’s not used to, better than the feeling of completing a hard set of drills, than a lengthy sparring match, the kinds of things that leave one sore and exhausted and euphoric. It’s not pain and effort followed by relief, but the chase of sensation that could almost pass for pain, but the nature of it is so uniquely different, albeit equally overwhelming.

 

He blinks and remembers to move his hand.

 

He tries not to buck or writhe too much under Yorsashi, though his knees draw up behind Yorsashi’s back, claws dragging against the bedding, but Yorsashi doesn’t appear to have the same reservations, starting to rut down into Staldar’s hand and against his member. It’s a heady feeling, their cocks sliding wetly together, all heat and pressure and the perfect amount of friction. But he wants Yorsashi closer still, wants to reach more of him with his free hand, wants every accessible inch of skin against him. So he reaches up, gently pulling at Yorsashi’s shoulder, urging him downward, and Yorsashi gladly acquiesces. Their noses meet, and they trade panting breaths and little noises of exultation.

 

“ _ Si itov wux _ ,” Yorsashi whispers into his mouth, before ducking down to lick and nip at the side of Staldar’s throat. Overwrought, Staldar squeezes at his back, trying not to scratch but it’s a near thing, muffling a moan against his shoulder. “ _ Mm _ , that’s right, can’t be too loud, can’t wake the others,” Yorsashi whispers to him in between the lashing of his tongue and the rolling of his hips. “Just like as if we were in,  _ oh _ , in the barracks, hm? We have to be,  _ hah _ , q-quiet or they’ll  _ know _ .”

 

“ _ Yorsashi _ ,” Staldar hisses, voice shaking, embarrassed, heat washing over him.

 

“Could you imagine,  _ hff _ , imagine me, s-sneaking into your bunk? I like to think we,  _ ahh, fuck _ , we w-woulda done it, just like this, like f-fumbling striplings,” Yorsashi laughs breathlessly against him. “I don’t th-think I would  _ ha _ -have had the forethought to get oil, though.” Staldar finds himself laughing with him, but it devolves into a whimper. He’s trying to keep his hand moving, to hold him firmly, but not too tight, to match his pace, but he keeps getting lost in all his other senses, forgetting himself, so completely enveloped in what Yorsashi is doing. Yorsashi must take notice of his struggle, the way his hand shakes and pauses every so often, and takes pity. “Here, let’s move a bit, I want to try something.”

 

Staldar reluctantly lets him go, following Yorsashi’s lead as he slides back, situating himself between Staldar’s legs. There’s a moment of adjustment, they both get comfortable again, catch their breath, but Yorsashi doesn’t waste much time getting back into position, lining himself up, and moving forward between Staldar’s thighs. Staldar quickly appreciates this new position, both hands free to roam, legs wrapped around Yorsashi, their bodies slotted together perfectly. And then Yorsashi is moving, their members pressed together, pinned between their bellies, slick and needy. It’s different, different from Yorsashi’s hand, with pressure and warmth all over instead of just what his fist could reach, every movement making the muscles in his stomach and legs tense, sending sparks up his body. And to his pleasure, Yorsashi seems to enjoy it just as much, maybe more, head bowed, eyes glazed, writhing and bucking with abandon. They trade soft moans and pants, wrapped around each other for a few moments, and Staldar starts to recognize a pattern in Yorsashi’s motions, his thrusts coming faster for a few seconds, before he switches to a slow, teasing grind—  _ fast, fast, fast, slow, fast, fast, fast, slow _ . Just as he’d reach a pace that left them both gasping, he’d let them back down with a groan and a sigh, then starting the process again.

 

That is, until Yorsashi’s arms begin to shake, and his hips jerk, and he closes his eyes against the onslaught of pleasure.

 

“ _ Oh _ , Gods, I-I won’t last much longer,” he puffs, squeezing Staldar’s hips. “I’m going to,  _ nn _ , definitely going to c-come if I keep going.”

 

Staldar growls and pulls him closer by the backs of his thighs, cupping Yorsashi’s ass, pulling a surprised squeak from the smaller dragonborn.

 

“Keep going,” he rumbles, nosing against Yorsashi’s neck. He isn’t sure, not really, but he can feel something in himself tightening, like a string being plucked, approaching some precipice, but more importantly, he wants to see Yorsashi come undone. “Do it.”

 

Yorsashi blinks at his fervor, but doesn’t need to be told twice, surging forward to bury his nose in Staldar’s collar, picking up a near-frantic tempo, rhythm turning sloppy and desperate. His noises turn high and breathy, but he keeps his volume soft, smothering his cries in Staldar’s scales.

 

“ _ Sitovwux, sitovwux _ —!” He slurs it all into one word, a mantra, only interrupted by heaving breaths and moans.

 

“ _ Axun, axun _ ,  _ noachi _ ,” Staldar replies softly between faltering breaths of his own. “ _ Si itov wux, mrith sia tiamo drekim." With my whole being. _

 

Yorsashi goes very still, breath stopping entirely, holding it, and Staldar can practically see the pleasure cresting in his face. Yorsashi sucks in a shallow breath before giving the smallest, most broken sound Staldar has ever heard from him, followed by his prick pulsing over his own, twitching, stripes of warm seed landing on Staldar's stomach.

 

It's only a few seconds, but Staldar drinks in every detail for what feels like minutes, watching  Yorsashi slowly come back to himself, feeling his heart thumping a quick double-time against his chest. When he finally lifts his head, rosy beneath his scales, pupils wide and dark, Staldar’s feels a pang of affection, and nuzzles the side of his face with a purring rumble, petting down his back, his arms, wherever he could reach.

 

“ _ Bivai, ethe-itov _ ,” Yorsashi says with a small laugh, a little quavor in his voice from exertion.

 

“What are you apologizing for?” Staldar leans back in surprise, trying to read Yorsashi’s face. He looks blissed-out, dazed, but self-conscious.

 

“I wanted to hold on, try to come with you, but, ah, I overestimated my stamina, I think,” but he pauses, reconsidering. “Or I underestimated yours,” he smirks, giving a little thrust, and Staldar grunts, prick leaking steadily between them now. “I’ll just have to work a little harder, hm?’

 

“I-I mean, you don’t have to do anything,  _ noachi _ , I’m content just being with you,” Staldar murmurs, and he means it; if Yorsashi decided he were done for the evening, Staldar would have no qualms simply cleaning himself off and then letting them both retire for the night. It’s not as though he had not denied himself before, though, he’d never gotten quite this far to begin with. Yorsashi gives him an odd look before leaning back, dragging a hand through the mess he had made, nearing the based of Staldar’s prick.

 

“If I made it sound like getting you off is some kind of burden, you’ve taken my meaning entirely wrong,  _ irthiski _ . This is something I  _ want _ to do. And right now, you look like you want to come, too. Am I right?”

 

Staldar doesn’t know what to say, but the tickle of Yorsashi’s hand and the heat in his voice makes his belly tense, cock twitching and drooling on his hip. So, he nods, and Yorsashi smiles.

 

“Then let me take care of you,  _ ethe-itov _ .”

 

Yorsashi takes him in hand, and doesn’t seem concerned with trying to build up speed, setting a fast, firm cadence from the start. Staldar doesn’t resist when his body wants to buck, swallowing down a moan. Gods, but he is close, so close to  _ something _ , he has to be. He closes his eyes, head tossing back and forth, hands grasping at the sheets, at Yorsashi, whatever he can reach, as the pleasure mounts.

 

Yorsashi takes his other hand starts to wrap it around the swollen base of his prick, slowly applying pressure, and Staldar startles, feeling a disconcertingly familiar sensation, one he  _ really _ wishes hadn’t struck in this exact moment. He jerks upright, grabbing Yorsashi by the wrist.

 

“ _ Stop,  _ shit, stop for a moment,” he hisses out, and Yorsashi immediately stops, removing his hands, shocked.

 

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Accidentally scratch you?” Yorsashi questions, quickly checking him over. Staldar just shakes his head, feeling his face grow warm with frustration and embarrassment, trying to disentangle himself from Yorsashi, but his limbs are weak and uncooperative.

 

“No, no, I’m so sorry,  _ noachi _ , but I need to get up for just a moment.”

 

“Whatever for?”

 

Staldar frowns. Getting to and using the water closet with a throbbing erection was going to be a very new and unpleasant experience.

 

“I… need to use the lavatory.”

 

Yorsashi’s expression goes through a few phases, from simply processing this statement, to confusion, to realization, to a strange mix of humor and affection and  _ hunger _ that Staldar isn’t sure he’s ever seen cross anyone’s face before. He places a hand on Staldar’s chest and starts to press, but Staldar resists with a sound of affront, confused.

 

“Oh, you sweet man, that’s not what that is. You’re not going to have an accident, I promise,” Yorsashi purrs with some amusement. “Relax, and just trust me,  _ ethe-itov _ . Even if you went to the washroom and tried, you’re not going to have much luck. So just lay back down, love.”

 

Staldar fidgets for a moment, the sudden fear and panic and humiliation of potential mid-sex incontinence dampening whatever enjoyment he had been feeling before. But he trusts Yorsashi, had asked him to take the lead, to show him what this could be like. He heaves a sigh, trying to let the knot of tension in him unwind, setting aside the moment of anxiety, and slowly lowers himself back down. Yorsashi hums happily and leans over to nuzzle him comfortingly, and Staldar gives him a rueful smile.

 

“If I piss the damn bed, you’re to blame.”

 

Yorsashi laughs.

 

“I’ll accept responsibility. But I swear by Bahamut himself that it’s not going to happen,” Yorsashi says, in a mockingly solemn tone, holding up a hand in a gesture of promise. Staldar shakes his head in bemusement, but relaxes back, and Yorsashi only spends a minimal amount of time warming him up again, pouring out a new dab of oil, working over his aching prick.

 

It’s only moments before he’s re-approaching that ledge. He tries to muffle and contain the little sounds and groans that want to escape him, body straining, tensed, little tremors wracking his limbs. But right as he’s sure he’ll tip, fall over the other side, it’s as if he leans back the other way. He closes his eyes, focuses on pulling on that thread of pleasure, following it where it leads, how  _ good  _ and  _ agonising  _ this feels, how much he loves Yorsashi, how much he had wanted this. But other thoughts, unbidden, silent saboteurs, come to him, thoughts of his ineptitude, how he couldn’t even do this much for Yorsashi. He feels himself frown, his brow furrowing, digging his claws into the sheets. Apparently, Yorsashi notices as well, leaning up, nosing against his ear.

 

“Hey, it’s alright, it’s alright,” Yorsashi whispers to him. “You’re thinking far too hard,  _ ethe-itov _ . Just let it come. Let it happen.  _ Si itov wux, irthiski, si itov wux _ , just relax for me and let yourself feel good.” He keeps uttering sweet words of encouragement, steadily increasing his speed, his pressure, second hand coming up to grasp him again, squeezing while the other pumps. Staldar gasps and whines plaintively.

 

“ _ Yorsashi _ —!”

 

“I’ve got you, love, I’ve got you. Come on, come for me. Let go.”

 

Staldar hangs onto his words desperately. Yorsashi’s hand on the base of his prick turns and wraps around him in a way that has him seeing stars. His stomach drops and he lurches, curling into Yorsashi, almost jackknifing, hands finding purchase on his narrow shoulders. His entire abdomen tenses hard, mouth opening in a silent shout, and finally,  _ finally _ , his member pulses hard in Yorsashi’s hands, spilling, and spilling. Yorsashi just holds him through it, cooing soft words of adoration to him as he shakes, barely conscious of what’s being said.

 

“That’s it, that’s it,  _ ethe-itov. Zyak bensvelk. _ I love you,  _ si itov wux,  _ I love you.”

 

Slowly, Staldar comes back down, muscles falling lax, heavy, feeling like he’s just finished running laps, catching his breath, heart thumping hard against his sternum. Yorsashi lets him go, but continues to rub against the side of his face affectionately.

 

“Oh,  _ ethe-itov, ethe-bensvelk drot,  _ you were so good, thank you. Thank you for letting me do that for you. I know it was difficult.  _ Vinxa,  _ e _ the-itov _ .”

 

With his head clearing, Staldar cuddles back, fighting the stupor of endorphins.

 

“ _ Si itov wux,”  _ he replies weakly, but emphatically, a little smile pulling at his mouth.

 

“Are you alright, dear?” Yorsashi leans across the bed to the little side-table, procuring a little cloth rag, wiping his hands, then Staldar’s chest and stomach. “I didn’t realize that would be so hard for you. It seemed intense.”

 

“I… I’m fine. Well, better than fine,” Staldar answers, eyes drooping. “I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect, but I don’t think it was that. It was… it was certainly a lot. But good.” Good. Scary. Wonderful. Overwhelming. “Thank you,  _ noachi _ . For being so patient with me.”

 

Yorsashi tosses aside the soiled cloth before he settles down against Staldar, draped across his side, legs tangled together.

 

“I would do it again and again, Staldar. I hope you’ll let me,” Yorsashi sighs into him, and Staldar’s heart feels overfull, painful in his own chest for a moment, but he nods and presses his nose to Yorsashi’s forehead.

 

“I want everything with you. I want to try everything with you,” he whispers back. Yorsashi makes a happy noise, hushed and tired.

 

“Maybe we should try to get some sleep.”

 

“Mm. Agreed.”

 

With only a little shuffling and rearranging, they huddle beneath their blankets, holding one another close, trading caresses and sweet nothings until they begin to doze, then sleep, candles burning down to nothing, until the room is dark and quiet.

 

They sleep deep, and soundly.

 

Neither of them have intentions to get up right away the next morning.


End file.
